His Worst Nightmare
by Oconee Belle
Summary: What happens when one is left in the care of someone like Klink? Burkhalter never thought he would be the unfortunate person finding out…


_**~*~ His Worst Nightmare ~*~**_

**This is in response to Abracadebra's challenge: Bring Back the Whump! **

**Merry Christmas! :-)**

"_Klink! _If it weren't for _you_, _I _wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Of course not, Herr General!" Klink's voice trembled. He backed away, his steps crunching in the snow. "Does it hurt?"

"I was shot in the leg, and you ask me if it _hurts_?" General Burkhalter deadpanned.

"I'm sorry, Herr General. I meant-,"

"I do not care about what you meant," Burkhalter stated wearily. _My sanity depends on it! _

What did one of Klink's prisoners escaping and hiding in a barn have to do with _him_, anyway? And, it certainly hadn't been _his_ fault that Schultz had come down with the flu, spreading it to over half of the other guards! Then, why had _he_ listened to the Dummkopf? _Why_ had he come along to recapture that prisoner?

"How was I supposed to know the barn was full of members of the Underground?" Klink couldn't get them out of his mind. He and the General had shot two of them, and the third had run away, but not before shooting out one of their tires.

He briefly wondered which of the three had been _his_ runaway prisoner.

"I do not care how you were _supposed_ to know," Burkhalter pinched his brow and tightly shut his eyes. Klink's voice was hurting him more than the gunshot wound! At least bleeding didn't talk his ear off with pointless apologies. "Did it ever cross your mind that this _might_ have been a _ruse_ of your dear Colonel Hogan?"

Klink was baffled, "But for once, Hogan was telling us the truth! He's never done that before when his men escape."

"Until tonight. Coincidence, Klink?"

Klink didn't know what to say. What he did know was that there were more important things for them to be doing instead of arguing in the freezing snow.

He took off his scarf, but wasn't sure how or if the General would let him use it to stop the flow of blood.

Rolling his eyes, General Burkhalter snatched the scarf and tied it tightly around his leg. Then, with a grunt, he was on his feet. It would take more then a little scrape to phase him. His scarred cheek tingled at the thought.

~*~HH~*~

Hogan paced back and forth across the barrack's floor, then turned abruptly at the sound of the false bunk rattling up. Newkirk popped his head out, "I got what you needed, Guv."

"Good. We'll get those negatives developed and sent to London."

Newkirk nodded before asking, "Are they back with Andrew yet, Sir?"

Hogan sighed. "Not yet."

Alerting General Burkhalter and Klink of an "escaped prisoner" seemed like the only way to clear out the Kommandantur. London wanted pictures of _every_ piece of paper Burkhalter had brought with him- every piece that he had stuffed into Klink's safe.

_At all costs. _

"But, don't worry, men," Hogan looked up from his thoughts. "Klink should be finding Carter in the barn any minute now."

~*~HH~*~

Carter lay face down in the dirt. The Colonel hadn't told him he'd have company. Those two Underground agents weren't part of the plan. Trigger happy agents were _never_ part of the Colonel's plan.

And then that guy had just run off! But not before he had shot out Klink's tire. That just meant that Klink and Burkhalter would be in the woods, trying to find their way back home. Or, they'd be on the road.

Yeah, on the road was more likely. Only the good guys were in the woods. People like Newkirk and LeBeau. No. Wait. Krauts were in the woods, too. Carter couldn't think straight anymore.

He shakily crawled over to the agent on the ground beside him and felt for a pulse. Dead people don't have a pulse. This person must have been dead.

~*~HH~*~

Klink and Burkhalter had been in the woods until they were out of sight of the barn. Then, they'd gone back to the road. As luck would have it, not one car had driven by to help them.

"I'm sorry, Herr-,"

"Klink," Burkhalter sighed tiredly. Klink reminded him of a kid who apologized until pardoned. "At the moment, I do not wish to discuss it. I will have plenty of time talking about this _incident_ to the Führer. Why waste time with _you_?"

Klink gulped, but he didn't have time to say anything because Burkhalter suddenly stumbled. Without thinking, Klink reached out and grabbed his arm, half expecting him to jerk away. He was surprised when that didn't happen.

Instead, Burkhalter paused, catching his breath. Klink's scarf was changing a nasty color of red.

"Perhaps I should leave you here and go find help?" _What am I saying?... _Klink's thoughts were racing…_That would involve going down this road by myself in the dark…with that last agent lurking about, ready to avenge his friends._

"That is _not_ necessary, Klink," Burkhalter regained his balance. "We can't be _that_ much farther from your camp."

Klink squinted into the darkness, "I would say we have a good ten minutes by truck, so that means-,"

"Three miles."

"My calculations exactly," Klink beamed, his chest swelling with pride.

"Congratulations, Klink. I didn't know you were capable of calculating anything," Burkhalter snorted. _Three miles. Maybe this bullet hole isn't just a scratch. _

Klink glanced away, visibly deflating. Burkhalter didn't think he was capable of _anything_…except running an escape proof POW camp. And now even _that_ was in question.

~*~HH~*~

_Those two agents must of been new, _Carter reckoned to himself. It was the only explanation for all the poor choices they had made. He'd told them it was a set up, and if they'd just wait in the loft, he'd be recaptured in a jiffy. Then, whatever they were doing, they could do.

But, when they had heard the Germans coming, they had panicked. Carter really couldn't blame them. After all, _he_ was the guy who once almost ruined a whole mission by saying 'ow'.

He leaned up against a tree, his hand pressed firmly on his wounded side. Why was it that every tree, including this one, looked familiar? He took a deep breath. Why was it that _everything_ was becoming the same color? It was all black. Everywhere he looked…no wonder they called it blacking out.

~*~HH~*~

Burkhalter sucked in a breath. All his extra adrenaline was starting to run out. He was trained not to feel pain. But, for a few seconds, he wondered if he was instead trained not to _show_ pain.

Klink sent him a concerned glance, but he waved him off, "Klink, you should have seen the time I was shot in the back, but still joined the charge towards the British."

Klink tried to look comforted, but that was _when_…the _last_ war? Burkhalter had probably been a little bit lighter and had _definitely_ been a lot younger. "I'm sure they were proud of you, Herr General."

"Who, the British?"

"No, no, us, the Germans!" Klink sighed. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to open his mouth.

Burkhalter shook his head. They walked on in silence. Or, in Burkhalter's case, limped on in silence. Despite all his military honor, he turned to Klink, "I believe I should sit down."

"But where, Herr General? If we find a place in the woods, the next transportation might pass without seeing us."

"Then how about we stay on the road, Klink?" Burkhalter decided he had every right to lose his patience. He started to lower himself down to the ground. He didn't want Klink to know that he simply couldn't make it to the woods.

"Wait, Herr General-," Burkhalter must have been losing his mind. The ground was cold and wet…and he was shot and bleeding. Klink didn't know why on earth he was doing this…he really didn't…Burkhalter wouldn't do it for him…but he took off his thick wool coat anyway and placed it on the ground.

Burkhalter paused and looked at Klink inquisitively.

Klink only shrugged, not really knowing what to say, because he was still wondering what had possessed him to do that.

The General huffed. (Klink hoped, but highly doubted, that was the General's way of saying, "Thank you.") He sat down on the coat and inspected his leg. It had long since bled through Klink's scarf.

And suddenly, he didn't feel like one of the most powerful men in Germany. He was a General. He had been awarded the Iron Cross. He had his thumb on just about every important person in Berlin, but not one of them knew that he was shot and in the middle of some deserted road with no help in sight.

~*~HH~*~

When Carter woke up, he had no idea how much time had passed. Only that he felt strangely lonely. He knew no body would be able to get to him tonight.

The Colonel didn't know that Klink's car wouldn't drive. As far as the Colonel knew, Klink and Burkhalter were on their way back with him, ready to demand yet another prisoner count.

That's when he looked up at the stars. They were shining brightly in the sky, like a million tiny candles.

~*~HH~*~

Hogan was just about ready to go against his gut and send someone after Andrew. _What could possibly be taking Klink and Burkhalter so long, unless something's gone wrong?_

"Guv, _I_ could go after Andrew," Newkirk said quite suddenly, as if he had been reading the Colonel's thoughts. "If the Krauts come back with 'im while I'm away, I know you could think of some excuse right quick if they wanted a roll call."

For the longest time, Hogan just stared at Newkirk while the rest of the men stared at _him_.

But before he could say anything, Kinch came up through the false bunk, "Message from the Underground, Sir. And I'm afraid there's no good news this time."

~*~HH~*~

Was that the soft glow of headlights? Klink prayed he wasn't hallucinating. Some of his combat classes had taught him that hallucinating was possible when exposed to extreme cold. And he _was_ cold.

"General," he whispered.

"Hmm?" General Burkhalter had been fading. He lifted his head and his eyes opened wide, "Well, don't just stand there, Klink! Flag them down, you Dummkopf!"

Klink gulped. Flag them down? As in, run towards a car _at_ _night_ and risk being splattered onto the snowy road? He suddenly realized that was going to happen anyway if he just stood there. With a deep breath, he ran, waving his arms wildly, "Halt! Halt! By order of the Führer, halt!"

Burkhalter blinked. The one-time Klink was brave. He must have been frozen solid and that was affecting his cowardly personality…

The car came to a stop, and the driver quickly walked over to Burkhalter for an explanation because Klink was talking too fast.

Burkhalter closed his eyes and shook his head. When it came to Klink, would he ever have a break?

Klink was practically glowing in the back seat, "For saving your life, do you think I might get my long awaited for promotion, Herr General?"

_Nein, I will never have a break…__**unless**__ I send him to the Front. But if I do that, I will be responsible for the end of the Third Reich!_

~*~HH~*~

Carter struggled to his feet and tried to walk. But his progress was small. He wasn't getting anywhere. He heard nearby footsteps. He froze, and tried to control his heavy breathing.

"Andrew, are you alright, mate?" It was Newkirk!

He was saved!

"I think I'm shot, Newkirk," he whispered weakly.

"We thought so, too. Kinch got the news from the Underground about a shooting at a barn," Newkirk frowned angrily. "Some bloody coward left you for dead."

Carter shook his head, "He was just scared, is all, Newkirk. His buddy got killed."

Newkirk didn't know what to say. He gave Carter a strong arm to lean on, and the two slowly started for home.

~*~HH~*~

When Klink returned from the hospital, courtesy of his cleaning lady, Kalinka, he was surprised to find that his prisoner was back. And he _was_ relieved that Carter hadn't been killed, although he refused to show it.

He instead promised him thirty days in the cooler once he was well…but with a few words from Hogan, the sentence was shortened to five days.

Then, Klink spun on his heel and marched into the Kommandantur. He picked up the phone and dialed the hospital, insisting on speaking to Burkhalter at once.

"Yes, Klin_**k**_…?" The General didn't sound very pleased to hear from the man who had saved his life. _Rude_.

"I have my prisoner back, General," Klink reported in his sing-song voice.

"Wunderbar," and the line went dead.

Klink scratched his bald head and slowly hung up the phone. He didn't know what to make of that response, only that General Burkhalter was in such a hurry to hang up that he hadn't even said "Heil Hitler."

That probably meant that he wouldn't be getting his promotion anytime soon, Klink thought with a sigh.

~*~HH~*~

**Author's Note:**

**This is my first attempt to write about Burkhalter…and I really, really tried to make him believable…**

**Hopefully this qualifies as a Hurt/Comfort story without too much coddling. I actually found it very hard as the author **_**to **_**coddle Burkhalter. Very hard indeed…and I imagine that the staff at his hospital are sharing my opinion! **


End file.
